These days I don’t expect much customer service so when I get it, I’m pretty shocked.

The Christmas before last my husband, Dan, and I bought our oldest son, Kevin, an iPod – for the second time.

The first one was for his 21st birthday, but it had stopped working about a year later.

Before he had a chance to take it for service, his car was broken into and along with his camera and CDs, his iPod was stolen. His car radio was so obsolete, the thieves left it untouched. Little did they know it played better than the iPod.

On his budget, Kevin couldn’t afford to replace the high-priced gadget, so for the next big occasion we did.

After about a year, that one also stopped working.

It took Kevin about six months to tell us. I was fuming.

Dan found this suspicious and wondered if maybe it was somehow Kevin’s treatment that was causing the problem.

“Our son?” I questioned, then sarcastically added, “no.”

No way Dan and I were buying No. 3, so Kevin resigned himself to life without an iPod. But, that didn’t give me much satisfaction.

A friend of mine told me about there being an iPod store at Victoria Gardens, so I asked Kevin for his so I could bring it in to see if it could be fixed and maybe vent a bit.

My friend also told me to “make an appointment.” I thought she was kidding – she wasn’t.

Dan and I arrived at the iPod store 15 minutes early.

When my name was called I marched up to the associate and when he asked how he could help me, I held up the iPod and said, “this doesn’t work.”

The salesman, I think his name was Brian, took the small, square gadget and started to fiddle with it.

“You’re right. It doesn’t work,” he said.

I waited for him to question me like a war criminal: “When did you buy this? Did you buy the extended warranty? How did you break it? What did you want me to do? Show me your papers.”

But all he said was: “Let me get you a new one.”

I knew there had to be a catch and started to wonder how much the prorated price would be.

He came back with a sealed package, opened it, removed the iPod and handed it to me.

Dan and I stood there just looking at each other. I didn’t want to jinx it, but I had to ask, “what’s the charge?”

He shook his head.

“We really do believe in our product,” he began. “You came in, you weren’t happy, I wanted to make you happy. Your iPod didn’t work, I don’t care if it was under warranty or not. I want you to leave happy. I want you to leave with a good feeling about our company.”

And I did. And I’ve told all my friends. And I would buy from Apple again. Not to mention, the iPod is working great.

Kevin’s dog, when it was a puppy, used the arm of the love seat as a teething ring. Thank goodness he ripped it at the seam so I could sew it back up.

I have Fabreezed the sofa so many times the dust mites have built up immunities.

Last week, one of the tired cushions split and there was no way to repair it.

Out came the charge card and off we went to the two furniture stores we’d heard of.

Our first stop was Living Spaces in Rancho Cucamonga. We saw some definite possibilities, but everything there was priced separately so I asked one of the umpteenth salesman who walked by if there was a discount if we bought the couch/loveseat as a set.

“No,” he said. “We’re not a commission store. Everything is sold separately.”

Not sure exactly what he meant, but I got the gist – the answer was no.

Dan and I drove down to Jerome’s where you can buy separately, but buying a set will get you a discount.

We looked around a bit, then Dan found a set he liked.

I agreed it was nice and I could see right away why he liked it. It was almost exactly what we’d been sitting on for the past 18 years – color and all.

Dan hates change. I’m not crazy about it myself, but in this case I kind of wanted to shake things up a bit.

After perusing the rest of the store, we were still undecided.

We went home to sleep on it.

The next day we were tossing various ideas around and decided to go with a similar style – to please Dan and two love seats instead of couch and love seat – allowing some change for me.

We decided that since Living Spaces was closer and sold everything by the piece – we’d go back there.

A very nice young salesman, I’ll call Manny, walked with us around the store answered questions and tried to help us find what we were looking for – as if we knew.

He led us to a beautiful set we had missed the night before. Dan liked it; I liked it and Manny liked that we liked it.

We told him we’d take two love seats and was ready to whip out the credit card.

“Ah, these two are sold as a set,” he said

I was dumbfounded. How could this be?

“But we were here last night and were told everything was sold separately,” I said.

“Let me go ask my manager,” Manny said smiling.

Dan and I were sure there’d be no problem. We were there – cash in hand. Well, plastic in hand, anyway.

Manny came back with the bad news, “My manager said we can’t.”

Understanding that this young salesman, as much as he might want to, was powerless to help us, I asked for the manager.

The manager, I’ll call him Milt, came over and listened patiently while I went through my spiel.

He then said that these decisions came down from corporate. He informed us that the set was on clearance and if he sold two love seats and were left with two couches, what would he do if someone came in and wanted a set?

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” I said. “In a store where we were told that everything is sold separately, when we finally find what we like we’re told the set cannot be broken up because it’s a clearance item – which to me means that not a whole lot of people were interested in buying it anyway – and instead of a sure `money in hand’ now, the company would rather wait for someone in the future who might want to buy the set.”

Milt repeated the company line, apologized and said the store had other items in “our price range” sold separately and suggested we look.

I had a suggestion of my own for him, but tried to keep an open mind.

We followed Manny around the store, but had no luck.

Again I approached Milt and asked if there was anyone else to talk to or if he could make an appeal to corporate for me.

Dan, who hates confrontation was hiding somewhere in the recliner section.

Milt, who must have been the assistant manager, informed me that the store’s manager would be in the next day and I could come back and speak with him, if I wanted.

“I want you to know I’m not happy,” I told the expressionless manager, who shrugged and walked away.

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